I find my thoughts weighing heavily on client issues this day. Most of the time, I am able to dissassociate myself from work and home; it is an arduous, yet necessary skill to obtain. But today is different. Some clients' cases just end up being different.

When one is working on the front lines of Human Services, where there is a propensity to be the target of the anguish and despair that reigns prevalent in the life of someone in crisis, there are times when certain clients' situations break the rules, albeit unbeknownst to them. They sneak their way into the place in one's heart that is normally reserved for friends and family. Their stories whittle away at the wall of apathy that permits an intervention worker to work in the field and with the client day in and day out.

For instance, there is Brandon*. I just recently started working with Brandon after a host of other intervention workers either could not withstand the demands of his case, or moved away to partake in other ventures. As is common, the Social Service agency handling his case finally contacted me, hoping I had room in my schedule for just one more.

I have earned a reputation for successfully working with clients whose needs are more clinical, and not just social and recreational. Few of the other companies in this region have staff that are able to either work with the child in a manner that is not going to perpetuate his issues, or be there for the long haul. When it comes to severely abused children, and children with mental illnesses, cognisance, compassion, and consistency are essential to the holistic healing process.

Cognisance of the issue at hand (the effects of abuse, the manifestation of mental illnesses) lends the ability for one to know what to expect, and how best to deal with it. While I feel that the clinical diagnoses of children are often questionable, it is a starting point. It offers an initial way of approach, a groundwork. Most importantly, it is information that needs to be shared with the client so that he can learn to cope, to live, as opposed to perpetually hiding behind the diagnosis.

Comapssion for the client, knowing that when his world comes crashing down around him, he probably has no idea why, or how to cope with it in a positive manner. As his intervention worker, it is to be expected to get one's shoes spit on from time to time while the client absorbs what is being taught to him. A little spit is no reason to take away the child's most cherished privilege, or any privilege for that matter. Of course, there are exceptions to this, especially if the child puts his, or someone else's safety in jeopardy. Nevertheless, I have seen too many workers ground a child, or take away privileges, just for being told to fuck off. Most times, the worker deserved it. Then the worker wonders why the child lost control, it all becomes the child's fault, and the child is labelled.

And I won't even get into the ill effects of labelling.

Consistency is knowing that, to make an effective change in the life of a client in crisis, one has to be there for the long haul. It could take months, it could take years. Unfortunately, with all to many "for profit" agencies in existence, staff are expendable, merely liabilities, and clients are dollar signs, revenue, overhead.

But I digress.

Brandon is thirteen. He has the official diagnoses of bipolar depression and attention defecit/hyperactivity disorder. He has radical mood swings. He cannot attend to something for long periods of time. He has difficulty communicating his needs, and lacks the social skills of his peers. He rarely offers his trust. He is isolated, alienated, marginalized.

He has a great deal of pent up hostility, and for good reason.

When his mother could no longer "control him", she signed him into the care of the state, who put him in a crisis facility for a year. This facility is designed to house children for a few days, maybe a couple of weeks, but no longer. It is staffed by undergrad university students trying to keep up with the rising costs of tuition. Obviously, Brandon did not cope well in this situation, and because of this, no foster home in the region would take him.

Brandon is back home now. With the assistance of in home paraprofessionals, myself included, it seems as though he may just make it, like he deserves to.

He is a handsome young man, short, dark hair, wide brown eyes, tall for his age; one can readily see that he has the potential to have a plethora of interested parties knocking on his door and ringing his phone. He is highly savvy with computers, tinkering with his every day. He is brilliant, as many people with mental illnesses are. He memorized a ninteen character video game code after seeing it once.

But it is not his looks that got me. It is not his brilliance that made molten that rock wall of mine called professional detatchment.

It is because, the second day I met with him, he ran up to me and gave me a great big hug. With a gesture of trust, he offered me a brief glimpse into his soul.

And now, he will no longer be isolated, alienated, marginalized.

* denotes an alias

Be Well